When Time Flies: The Outsiders
by Dragongirl of the Stars
Summary: The Doctor and Rose stumble upon an unusal plot against Earth - one that involves a new, improved kind of Superrace: the genetically modified kind. They find themselves caught in a War between scientists and experiements. NOT discontinued, only on hold.
1. Arrival

**Disclaimer: Don't own Maximum Ride or Doctor Who. Still waiting for that screwdriver in the mail... Would like some wings too... wonder if the School could arrange that for me... XD**

My first crossover fiction! Well, sort of. I posted the other part of the fic first: this is also posted under Maximum Ride, a novel by James Patterson. Different title, of course - A Feather In Time: The Outsiders. I don't really need to explain the books like I had to explain the show in the other fic. Anyway. First chapter away... Bear with me.

Oh, and the music lyrics belong to the strange David Bowie and his lunatic mind...

* * *

**Chapter One…**

_Didn't know what time it was the lights were low oh how_

_I leaned back on my radio, oh oh_

_Some cat was layin down some rock 'n roll lotta soul, he said_

_Then the loud sound seemed to fade away_

_Came back like a slow voice on a wave of phase, ha haze_

_That weren't no d.j., that was hazy cosmic jive…_

" There's a staaaar maaan, waaaiting in the sky; he would like to come and meet us, but he's afraid he'd blow our minds…" The Doctor bellowed out the next few lines, completely out of tune as he bounded around the consol. Rose joined in, collapsing into hysteric giggles as she was thrown around the control room. "There's a staaar maaan waaaiting in the sky, he told us not to blow it, 'cause he knows it's all worthwhile!"

There was crash from somewhere in the TARDIS as the great ship hurtled to a stop. With a jerk, the Doctor and his companion were thrown off their feet, landing flat on the grated floors. The music stopped, cutting off in the middle of David Bowie's strange lyrics. The Doctor and Rose, still laughing hysterically, helped each other up off the floor and staggered to the door.

"So…" Rose calmed herself enough to speak, clutching her sore abdomen from laughing so hard. "Where are we?" The Doctor grinned wider than before, looking like an exuberant child.

"No idea!" He replied cheerfully. "Let's go see!"

The Time Lord snatched up his long overcoat, pulling it on over his brown, pin-striped suit. Rose followed as he bounced out the door of the TARDIS, closing the door as she exited. The blue Police Box had become so familiar to her over the year she'd spent with the Doctor; who knew an inter-dimensional, time-travelling spaceship would end up being like a home to her?

Stowing away her musings, Rose Tyler turned and bounded over to where the Doctor now stood, observing the Wherever and Whenever they had landed. She took in the scene, curiosity overriding her hysteric giggles.

They were standing in the middle of a huge domed room. The floors were smooth and crystalline; expensive and polished until glossy. From the ceiling snaked large tubes that twisted and wrapped around each other as they stretched along the walls, looking like metal vines. Up ahead, a small cluster of strange-looking machines rolled around. They scooted around in seemingly aimless directions, humming mechanically.

"Well." The Doctor stuffed his hands into his pockets. "This is interesting."

"What are those things?" Rose pointed at the odd little devices, eyebrows furrowed. The Doctor didn't answer immediately, still scrutinising them with interest.

"Seems to me they're… air scrubbers," he concluded. "Self contained. They trap carbon dioxide and release oxygen. Like an air purifier."

Rose wrinkled her nose. "They look like Daleks."

"I was trying really hard _not_ to make that connection." He sighed. "'Bout had enough of those bloody things."

There was a pause as the two travellers watched the scrubbers glide down the side of the room.

"So." The Doctor clapped his hands together, springing to life again. "Up for some exploring, Miss Tyler?"

The only response he got was a grin as Rose started forward, tugging him by the hand. The strode off down the hall, curiosity drawing them ahead like a magnet.

"Where d'you think we are?" Rose asked, swinging the arm that held the Doctor's hand. He grinned.

"Not sure. Though it must be some place without air. Or bad air, at least."

"Hence the scrubbers."

"Exactly." They turned a corner. "But why would the air be dirty?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Moon base?" She suggested.

"Perhaps. But that kind of technology isn't alien. Well, that's to say it's not human. Any other race with such a desire for neatness," he gestured unnecessarily to the sparkling floor, "would never use such simple technology to clean air. Especially if they knew what they were doing." He stopped suddenly, kneeling down to observe the floor.

"And this is tile," he added, grinning as he ran a finger across its surface. "Earth substance. Smells like lemon, too."

Rose deflated noticeably at this prospect. "So we're on Earth?"

"Weeeell, not necessarily. An Earth colony, at least. Human. Not too far advanced from your time." He stood, brushing off his pants, though Rose didn't see a spec of dirt on them. "Early moon colonisation, perhaps."

But just then another air-scrubber scooted by; the Doctor lunged out and held it in place before it could go anywhere. He had it disabled with his screwdriver before it could even register its capture. He pried off the top of the machine, revealing a complicated compilation of circuits and data chips. Rose leaned over it, wondering for not the first time how he could make heads or tails of the technology without even thinking.

"Ohhh, this is nothing!" He grinned and prodded the machine parts. "Completely twenty-first century! I'd be surprised if the model came out any later than 2008 – Earth material if I've ever seen it." Rose huffed a sigh as he swiftly replaced the top and reactivated the scrubber. It sputtered for a moment, then scooted off as if nothing had happened. The Doctor watched it roll away, looking amused.

"Earth, then." Rose rolled her eyes. Again. Earth was so boring… why couldn't the TARDIS have dropped them somewhere more exciting? Like Blasphortronius or Xenon 3 or whatever?

"Yep. And since we know that global warming doesn't actually destroy the world like you humans thought it would, I doubt that the air outside is contaminated. Which means…" he trailed off, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Rose wondered where his mind had gone. He jumped to life again a few seconds later, having reached a conclusion somewhere in that big brain of his.

"We're underground! The scrubbers supply air because the building, base, whatever this is, is underground." Suddenly he started forward again, striding purposely down the hall.

"_Allons-y_, Rose, we've got exploring to do!"

* * *

Well, now that I've re-edited and re-posted this, I can say adeu untill the next chapter. Almost finished... sort of.

Is anyone intersted here? At all?

Reviews for fudge! Fudge is good. I like fudge. :)


	2. Trouble, Just AHead

Well, here goes again! Chappie two, up and written. Enter the limbless wonder, the Uber-Director... XD

**Disclaimer: Still waiting for that screwdriver in the mail... Batchelder hasn't called me back, either, about that wing-surgery being set up. Bah. Stupid, unreliable scientists...  
**

* * *

**Chapter Two... Trouble, Just A-Head  
**

Not much farther away from the wandering travellers, a figure – as he wasn't quite what you'd call a person – glided down the tunnel-like hall, his motorised chair moving quietly across the polished floors. He was deep in thought, but that wasn't uncommon. The Uber-Director did quite a lot of thinking these days.

Gliding past a solitary air-scrubber, he was briefly reminded of how the base was underground. Perhaps a human would be discomforted by this concept, but the Uber-Director felt nothing. He wasn't human enough to feel discomfort about such things.

It was not long before he reached the conference room connected to his temporary office; and once inside, he turned his chair to face the wall that was a bank of plasma screens, five wide and four high. A few metres away stood a human assistant, his head bowed.

"Sir?"

"Have the arrangements been made?"

"Yes, sir. Everything is prepared. The auction preview can begin at your signal."

"Excellent." The Uber-Director allowed himself an unnatural-looking smile. "Have all the parties accepted the invitation to attend?"

The assistant seemed to find pride in his response. "Yes, sir. All of them."

"Then let's begin."

The wandering pair stopped abruptly, having turned a corner to find themselves staring at the back of a motorised chair-thing as it glided down a large hall. They could see a human head, but no body. They couldn't quite tell what it was, but its presence radiated trouble.

Naturally, they followed it.

Holding a finger to his lips, the Doctor walked quietly and slowly after the.. _thing_ and Rose kept close, being as quiet as she could; she was glad she'd chosen to wear flats today and not heels. Time Lord and human padded silently behind, keeping their distance as the _chair-head_ glided on, oblivious to their presence.

A minute or so later, Machine Chair Head rolled through an entryway to something similar to a conference room. The Doctor and Rose hid on either side of the doorway, listening as they remained out of sight in the hall. The Doctor strained his ears; he heard two different voices, one mechanical and unnatural, the other slightly timid and more human. Rose tensed at the opposite side of the door, keeping still.

"...Have all the parties accepted the invitation to attend?" One of the voices – the more mechanical one – spoke first. The other responded politely.

"Yes, sir. All of them."

"Then let's begin."

The Doctor and Rose exchanged glances at this snippet of conversation; the Time Lord waggled his eyebrows. They peeked out from behind the doorway to catch a glimpse of the scene in the other room.

From the entryway they found themselves facing, again, the back of Machine Chair Head, as well as a large wall that held a bank of plasma screens. The Doctor observed this with a grin. _Definitely human,_ he thought wryly. What other civilisation would use plasma for a screen? He observed the entirety of the room, noticing the human standing a reasonable distance away from Machine Chair Head, head bowed slightly. From his posture he seemed... insignificant, somehow.

But Machine Chair Head, in order to face the screens on the wall, had turned itself just enough for its front to be visible to the travellers for the first time. Rose nearly gagged, putting both hands over her mouth. The Doctor's eyebrows went up, more in surprise than disgust. He'd seen something like this before – yet, not on Earth.

Machine Chair Head's body was more chair than it was body; _he_ was nothing but several glass cases containing vital organs; his head was connected to a spine and wired into the chair, probably to control its movement due to lack of limbs.

To both Time Lord and human, Machine Chair Head was completely revolting.

Rose wondered if she had turned as green as she felt.

Taking them away from their uneasy stomachs, the bank of screens flickered to life, as if by silent command; a different person popped into being on each one, men and women alike. It seemed they were aware they were on-screen, and adjusted what looked like small microphones connected to their suits or on their computers. Machine Chair Head spoke in a voice as unnatural as he looked. Perhaps not as disgusting, but certainly as unnatural; though they both went hand in hand...

" Greetings."

The Doctor and Rose leaned forward a little, still unnoticed behind the edges of the double doors. "Those people – they're world leaders," the Doctor whispered in Rose's ear, not daring to speak louder than a breath. "Most of them are wanted criminals..."

"To clarify what we're doing here today," Machine Chair Head went on, causing the two travellers to perk in interest, "let me go over some salient points." He turned slightly, and another screen came on in another part of the room. The Time Lord and his companion craned their necks to see it clearly. Rose's eyes widened slightly. Six unhappy and unwashed children appeared on the screen, scowling and scruffy. But this was a recorded image, not a video link; the Doctor cocked an eyebrow, mind instantly running over possibilities of how they were connected. His suppositions were clarified as the human-man-chair-thing continued to speak.

"These are the items up for auction. They come as a set. Though the set could be split up, it would not be wise, and no doubt hamper the success of your mission."

Rose gasped before she could stop herself, the meaning of his words sinking in far too quickly; she held a hand over her mouth, sickened. The Doctor's eyes darkened, but he didn't move.

"Could you detail exactly what we're looking at?" One of the men on-screen broke in, harsh. "There have been rumours."

"You are looking at six juvenile avian-human experiments in recombinant-DNA science. They are the most viable of any that have been produced. They can actually fly like birds."

Rose's mouth fell open again and the Doctor's eyebrows nearly met his hairline as the image flickered to a video; the same six children were airborne, huge feathered bird wings pumping smoothly at their sides. The Doctor stared, amazed, at something he'd never considered part of Earth's history. He'd never heard of recombinant science – not, of all places, on Earth.

"They fly well," he continued in his mechanical voice. "They have an uncanny sense of direction and superior regenerative and healing powers. They're smart, wily, and relatively sturdy."

"You sound as if you admire them." A woman on one of the screens challenged him with a raised eyebrow.

"Admire? No. Not at all. To me they are genetic accidents, mistakes. Nor am I so foolish as to underestimate them as my predecessors have."

There were a few seconds of contemplative silence among the group of criminal leaders. Then, Machine Chair Head informed them that he had no more information to add except that, "The _opening_ bid is five-hundred million dollars." In closing, before the screens went dead, he allowed himself a small chuckle.

"After all, it is difficult to put a price on the ability to rule the world."

"You know, I'm not sure it ever had a price."

The screens had flickered off and the Doctor had seized his chance, slipping around the doors to stand in plain view; his eyes had gone cold – a warning sign that a storm was surely on its way.

"I don't think it ever will," he added, ignoring the look of shock and anger and whatever else on Machine Chair Head's face. Rose appeared by his side, arms folded across her chest as she surveyed Machine Chair Head's awful front side in closer detail, still grimacing.

He really was absolutely disgusting.

"Who are you?! How did you get in?" Machine Chair Head was about as close to spitting fury as the metaphor would allow; his voice had risen as if it had been adjusted by a volume dial and his face had turned an unnatural shade of purple, developing numerous mauve-coloured blotchy spots.

"So few questions, so much time..." The Doctor trailed off, grinning faintly. He pointedly avoided the demands, making it clear he had no real intention to answer them. "Who I am isn't really what's important, now, is it? The question is, who are _you_? The... _head... _of the facility?"

Rose grinned despite herself, trying not to laugh.

"I am the Uber-Director," he spat. "How did you penetrate my security?! Who told you we were down here?!"

"No one told us anything," Rose insisted, resisting the urge to take one giant step back, away from the advancing wheelchair; she briefly wondered if she had heard his name right...

"Oh, it wasn't too difficult, really. It was just a matter of time." The Doctor threw Rose a wink, grinning. She suppressed a giggle, biting her lip; but the laughter died in her throat when His Slushiness advanced once again. The Time Lord suddenly turned to the mutated man, something registering in his mind; he grinned manically. "Did you say your name was, _'Uber-Director?'_"

"You will tell me who you are!"

"The _Uber_-Director?" He repeated, thoroughly amused. "And everyone says _I_ have a strange name!"

"Answer the question!" The volume of the Uber-Director's voice was so loud it reverberated through the Doctor's chest. He was still grinning, trying to contain himself. The Uber-Director advanced a third time, so they were nearly level with the doorway.

"Now, then, let's not lose our heads, here," the Doctor went on. "It's all you have, anyway. Best not lose it."

"Are you being funny with me?" He barked, the angry purple colour returning to his face.

"Someone's got to pull your leg every now an' then, don't you think?" He grinned at him, firing one crack after another. "Come on, now, try to think outside your boxes for a change. A little humour might do you some good."

The Uber-Director glared at Rose, who was trying very hard to conceal her rising hysteric giggles. The Doctor made to plough ahead, but this time the apparently transparent man cut him off.

"BE SILENT, HUMAN!" He roared, anger exploding like fire from his dismembered being. The Doctor tensed, shifting his body to stand protectively in front of Rose. As if by the Uber-Director's command, the double doors slammed closed behind them, bolts sliding into place as they locked together. Rose squeaked in surprise, unconsciously grasping the Doctor's hand with her own.

"YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY OVER ME!" The Doctor matched the Uber-Director's volume with frightening accuracy. His eyes flamed with an intensity that could have dwarfed the strength of several suns. "_Don't _assume you know what I am - don't assume you know _anything _about me, _Director_, because you know _nothing_!"

Rose suddenly felt very small as she pressed herself up against the locked double doors; the young human considered herself a glaring contrast to the Time Lord that had a firm hold on her hand. It was her hand in his that made her immune to the tremendous rage radiating from him. But the Uber-Director had not been so lucky. His expression of rage had transformed into that of blank coldness, seeming to have become almost detached. It appeared to be the closest he could get to fear. The Uber-Director said nothing, simply stared.

"Now," the Doctor lowered his voice to a relatively normal volume, although his tone still carried a deadly edge. "We've overheard your little conference about the auction, and we know what you're planning to do with that group of kids. You mentioned something about the ability to rule the world… a hopeless feat, I wholeheartedly assure you."

This time it was the Doctor that began advancing toward his opponent; the Uber-Director began to roll backwards, away from him.

"What do _you _know of politics?" The Uber-Director regained a small amount of his confidence, managing a snarl. Rose moved slowly forward at the Doctor's side, unwilling to let go of her companion's hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the assistant from before, huddled in the far corner. He was frozen, having taken on a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"A fair bit more than you, I'm sure." The Doctor's voice had fallen again, speaking in a murmur; Rose could feel his double-pulse through the veins in his hand, strong with adrenaline. "Enough to know that using science to get ahead in politics is as about bad as it gets. And it seems that science has become the basis for human advancement. You rely on it to get you ahead." _And by the looks of you_, the Doctor thought with a humourless smirk, _that seems to be all it's gotten you._

"It's a corrupted world we live in," the mutated man stated coolly, regaining his composure as the tall man in front of him stopped advancing.

"So it is," the Doctor agreed, voice staying consistently low. "But the origin of every dark shadow is the light of good intentions. Corruption isn't fate. It's choice. You choose what you do with power."

_And you're livin' proof of that_, Rose said silently.

"Perhaps what you say is true," the Uber-Director said after a moment, his voice turning hisslike. "But you have no power in this facility. This is my organisation, and I have control of everything that goes on within it. Outside that door," he nodded behind them, "is a troop of fifteen New Age robotic guards that respond only to my command. They would tear you limb from limb if I told them to. They have no emotions, no conscience. And, unlike the winged mutants, they do as they're told; if they do not, they are terminated." He rolled forward, an almost sly expression playing across his pasty face. "The same shall happen to you, if you refuse to comply. You have intruded upon my facility, you are now under my command."

The Doctor thought, _It's a good thing you didn't say 'in my grasp.' I would have had a field day._

"Now," the Uber-Director, continued, "you will tell me who you are."

The Doctor locked eyes with the man in the wheelchair for a long moment. Rose could almost see the wheels spinning in the Doctor's mind, rotating at impossible speeds. His mind was jumping from one outcome to another in only milliseconds; Rose knew he was analysing possibilities for escape, predicting the likelihood of each one. It only took seconds for him to make his decision.

"Who I am is of no consequence," he finally said, eyes dark. "_What _I am, however, is a very different matter. You have officially become an enemy to me, _Director_, and I won't stop until I know exactly what you're up to. You don't know who you're dealing with, and trust me, you don't want to." The Doctor straightened, inhaling deeply as he reached into his pocket. "Not to run out on you, but I think this little meeting is well over with. It's high time we leave."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" The Uber-Director almost laughed. "The doors are sealed. Only I can open them, and I'm not letting you go anywhere. Not until--"

The Doctor cut him off mid sentence, sonic screwdriver at the ready; it glinted under the artificial lights.

"But you see, _Uber_-Director, you've just broken super-villain rule number one; you've given away the fact they're connected to electronic systems. _And_," he lifted the silver device into the air, "I have _this_."

Not wasting a second, the Doctor whirled and thrust his sonic screwdriver at the double doors; Rose started forward as they exploded in a shower of sparks; the guards, as promised, had been stationed behind the doors and were blundering about in confusion. The suddenness and force of the blow had temporarily shocked their systems, rendering them useless for a good three or more seconds. Neither of the travellers hesitated, immediately launching themselves past the stunned humanoid robots.

And the Doctor and Rose did what they always did: they ran. Hand in hand, the two companions sprinted for their lives down the halls of the underground facility, heading for the safety of the TARDIS_._

* * *

Well, introduction to Limbless wonder, now out of the way! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can - which will, undeniably, be after I update the ninth chapter of Keepr of the Lost. (Yes, that was a shameless plug; so sue me)

Fudge for reviews. Come one, come all, a bucket of fudge for just one review!

...Does fudge come in buckets? Oh well. Fudge for reviews!


	3. The Order of Things

OH FUDGE I FORGOT TO PUT A DISCLAIMER ON THE MR VERSION OF THIS!! I'll hafta go back and replace the chap with a disclaimer! FUDGE!

Oh. Sorry. You probably weren't expecting shouting. I wasn't shouting at you, really. Sorry.

**Disclaimer 'fore I forget! I really, really, really, really don't own it. I'm just playing with the BBC's characters and fixing the entire book of MR4 cos it SUX ROCKS! Pardon my language. **

Anyway. eh. Sorry it's taken so long to update this, been well, lazy these past few weeks, so sorry again. Well. back to the story, can't keep ya waitin' much longer, can I?

Previously: The Doc and Rose have escaped to the TARDIS, our nemesis the Uber-Director is being his limbless self. Woo hoo.

**Chapter Three:**** The Order of Things**

"Sir!" The Uber-Director's assistant, who had been frozen in the corner, seemed to jump to life and shouted in alarm, starting forward. "They'll get away!"

"No." The Uber-Director blocked the doorway. "Do not go after them. I have already summoned security. There is no way out for them now."

He allowed himself another small smile. The assistant regarded him curiously.

"We shall see how long these two humans last in my facility. They may run, but they cannot hide. Who knows? Perhaps we can use them after all."

"Sir..?" The assistant shifted, trying to hide his unease at the Uber-Director's growing smile.

"Conrad," the Uber-Director began; the assistant stiffened at the rare use of his name. "Alert the invitees and tell them I have decided to include a bonus with my offer – a reward of five-hundred thousand dollars to the first person to identify both the intruders. Fetch me in my office when my guards have flushed them out; make sure they are locked up until I can speak with them. _Behind_ bars."

And without another word, the Uber-Director glided away, disappearing into the confines of his private office and leaving the assistant alone with his orders.

* * *

The Doctor and Rose sprinted down corridors, hoping against hope their pursuers were far behind. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the halls, the sound bouncing off the polished, crystalline floors. They wove around unsuspecting air-scrubbers until they entered the large domed room where the TARDIS still stood. The Doctor skidded to a stop at the door, jammed his key in the lock, and flung himself inside; Rose turned to close the door, pausing long enough to see a mob of humanoid guards loping their way.

She slammed the door and locked it, jumping back. There were several large _whumps_, then banging. The guards were trying, and failing, to get inside.

Rose, having fallen flat on her back in her haste, stared up at the domed ceiling of the TARDIS as she caught her breath. The Doctor, not wasting any time, flipped one last switch on the consol and called for her to hold onto something. She scrambled up and gripped the rail; the Time Lord took hold of the hand brake, gave it a dramatic thrust downward. The TARDIS lurched violently to the side. They were off.

It took only seconds for the TARDIS to dematerialise and then they were hurtling through space, the Time Rotor pumping up and down as they headed for whatever coordinates the Doctor had programmed. The TARDIS rocked and bumped, throwing them about the control room. Only a few moments passed before the great ship suddenly shuddered to a halt, the floor stilling and Time Rotor calming its frantic wheezing. Rose loosened her grip on the railing, stretching a little.

"We in the Vortex?" She asked, moving to stand next to the Doctor. He was bent over, studying the monitor.

"Orbiting the Earth, actually. Approximately twenty minutes before we left the base." He looked up at her, peering over his glasses. "You alright?"

"Yeah, 'm fine." Rose looked at the monitor, watching characters of an alien alphabet scroll down the screen; the little squiggles and swirls meant nothing to her. The TARDIS never translated Gallifreyen. "Whatsit say? Somethin' wrong?"

"Nah, just trying to trace the transmission the '_Uber_-Director' sent out to speak to his little friends." The Doctor squinted at the monitor for a moment, reading the Gallifreyen text. "If I can isolate the satellite link that sent out the signal to all those lovely people, I can pinpoint the exact coordinates of the transmission's origin."

Rose blinked, more or less sure she understood what he meant, he'd spoken so fast. "You mean find the location of the base by following the signal?" She asked.

"Yep." The Doctor smiled his billion-watt smile.

She watched him work for another moment, finding a small amount of pride in how much she'd learned from her travels. She could already identify a good amount of levers and switches and buttons and whatever other controls were on the consol. Rose was also, at least, somewhat familiar with the expansive technobabble that seemed to constantly flow from the Doctor's mouth.

The rest of the time, she simply nodded when he stopped for breath.

It seemed to work best that way.

Rose tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, continuing to watch the Time Lord with something close to fascination. His dark eyes were intent on the screen, the glow of the monitor illuminating his face and casting shadows beneath the rims of his glasses and down the length of his nose. "And if I can tap into the video frequency… we can latch onto the signal of the clip he broadcasted."

A pause. He typed in what looked like a bypass code and studied the screen again.

He keyed in something else, paused a moment. Suddenly his face lit up. "We're in!"

An image appeared on the screen, the opposite of what they had seen from inside the Uber-Director's office. Instead of a bunch of different faces, they saw the Machine-Chair Man himself, with the double doors visible in the background. Rose grinned, tongue against her teeth, as she saw a flash of movement at the door; she could almost make out the Doctor's face peeking through the crack in the doors.

The two travellers watched as the transmission was played; they could hear the conversations between the Director and the leaders, and suddenly a thought struck Rose.

"If the link is live, can't they see us?" She flashed a glance at the Doctor, heart rate picking up slightly. He shook his head.

"We're receiving the signal indirectly," he said, not looking away from the screen. "The link is live, but we've shoved our way in. They can only see the people who have direct contact to the broadcast itself, and the TARDIS is, in a word, invisible. Human technology - well, basic human technology such as this - isn't advanced enough to recognise alien disturbance."

Rose nodded, relaxing. At least he'd made it sound simple this time. She focused her attention on the monitor again.

_"To clarify what we're doing here today, let me go over some salient points."_ The Uber-Director backed up in his chair and the screen switched to the image of the children again. Rose memorised their faces, heart twinging. _These children are being sold,_ she thought, sickened, her disbelief returning. They looked so unhappy… so _angry_…

The image changed again, to the video of the same six children flying, their avian wings looking beautiful but so very, very wrong. They flew smoothly, powerfully; their wing feathers seemed to vary according to their appearance. The dark-haired boy had black, almost gossamer wings; the dirty-blond in the front of the group had tawny, streaked wings; the darker-haired girl had brownish wings; the two blond children had pale wings; the tallest boy had wings tinged with blue-grey streaks.

"This shouldn't be happening," the Doctor murmured, almost to himself. "This is wrong. The human race was never meant to have recombinants as a species, much less a population. It's not anywhere in their history." He frowned at the monitor, brows furrowing.

"Can't history be rewritten?" Rose asked tentatively, as much as she dreaded the concept. The Doctor turned to look at her, eyes dark. The effect was furthered by the shadows sliding across his face. They were almost ignoring the transmission, having witnessed it all firsthand.

"Not this kind of history. Parts of Earth's future are fixed… the human population was never meant to be recombinant. It was never introduced as an addition to society, much less considered an alternative species…" He trailed off, looking back at the screen. Rose's gaze flicked across his face for a moment, watching the light shift across the bridge of his nose and shadows settle on the tops of his cheekbones. His hair was sticking up again, tousled and rebellious as usual. She was suddenly overcome by the impulse to reach out and touch it…

She cut the thought off at the knees and focused on the monitor again, swallowing down the emotion; Rose felt herself flushing and was glad that the control room was too dark for him to tell. She watched the Uber-Director smile evilly as he announced the beginning price for the auction and felt a sick unease build in her stomach. Auction. She would never be able to hear that word again without thinking of these children. These poor, dirty, underfed children… homeless, probably without parents…

The transmission ended suddenly; in the background Rose glimpsed a millisecond of movement at the double doors, and she saw the Doctor emerging from behind them. His face was in full view, but all Rose could see of herself was a flash of blond hair from beside him. The image froze in that spot, and then evaporated. The transmission had been cut.

As soon as the image disappeared the Doctor's fingers were working, flying over keys and flipping switches and controls by the monitor. More Gallifreyen slid down the screen, moving so fast Rose wondered how the Time Lord could possibly keep up with it.

"Ha! Got you!" He shouted at the monitor, grinning manically as he addressed what Rose could only guess was the origin of the transmission. "Where are you coming from, eh? Let's see…" The Doctor squinted at the screen, peering through his black-rimmed glasses. Rose leaned over his shoulder, trying to focus on the monitor; she tried, really she did, but couldn't help being distracted by the proximity of his _hair_. His stupid, rebellious, ruffled, _great _hair. She wanted, almost more than anything, just to touch it. _Just once…_

Rose once again resisted her embarrassing urges, staring at the monitor with more intensity than was necessary. The Doctor didn't notice her inner turmoil, absorbed in his work. She was relieved at his obliviousness… for once. Suddenly he jumped up in an explosion of manic energy and flying movement.

"Belgium!" He shouted, dashing around the consol, setting coordinates. Rose watched him with eager anticipation, observing him as he ran back and forth, type in something here, flip a switch, pull a lever, press a button over there, run around the consol and press another button, run back to the monitor and type in something else, slam his mallet down on the consol for apparently no reason. At last the Time Lord ended his wild dance with a final flick of a lever, coming to a halt; his fingers were curled around the grip of the hand brake and he was grinning, glasses askew on his nose and eyes bright. He was so full of energy that to any other person, he would probably look stark-raving mad.

But Rose knew better.

He didn't _look _stark-raving mad. He _was_ stark-raving mad. But he was also brilliant; and when it came down to it, being brilliant was really all that mattered.

"We're going to Belgium?" Rose couldn't help but smile back at him, already bracing herself on the edge of the consol.

"Yep." He grinned even wider. "We're finding those kids."

And then he released the hand brake.

* * *

Back in the Uber-Director's base stood fifteen confused robotic guards, alone in the dome where the big blue box had simply disappeared. What they had just witnessed went against the laws of logic and possibility that had been programmed into their heads. In a clichéd kind of way, the situation simply did not compute. Not programmed to do otherwise, the 'lead' humanoid robot sent a signal to the Uber-Director, alerting his superior of their predicament. The memory chip in the robot's brain would send the information directly to the nanochips in his boss's brain. It did not occur to the leader that the intruders' escape would be considered incompetence. After the robots returned to their designated stations, they would be terminated and replaced for inferiority.

This did not occur to the robots. They were simply following the protocol they had been programmed with.

They marched back to the Uber-Director's office, unaware of the rage and horror they were about to face as they arrived.

The Uber-Director's assistant was utilising every ounce of courage he possessed to not shrink into the corner and hide his head behind his hands. The body-less man was, once again, as close to spitting fury as the metaphor would allow. They had escaped! They had ran into a tiny little _box _and disappeared! Just - _gone!_

Had the Director possessed arms, he would have thrown something. If he had possessed legs, he would have kicked something. Instead he simply rolled from one end of the room to the other, his version of pacing. The Uber-Director's fury suddenly caused one of the plasma televisions on the wall to explode in a shower of sparks, causing the assistant to jump and yelp in surprise. Poor Conrad was shaking in badly-hidden fear.

He had been bested by a skinny man and a girl. Two humans that were nothing short of incompetent; just like his guards. Incompetent - the lot of them! Failures. Insignificant. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

"How could they have simply _disappeared?!_" He shouted at no one in particular. The Uber-Director continued rolling around the room, furious. "In a box, a blue box, that had just been sitting in the hallway. A _wooden_ box! How could a wooden box have resisted my guards? Wood can shatter and splinter, but no - it didn't so much as scratch… What kind of _box_ could it be? It simply fades from sight and disappears… that should be impossible; it has denied the laws of logic! Perhaps it is not a box - that the outside is a disguise. Something that resembles a box but is not…"

The Uber-Director was still rolling round and round in his little oval, albeit not as violently as before. He was talking to himself, thinking out loud. His furious mutterings were interrupted when the doors to his office suddenly swung open. A large group of his robot guards trooped in, their strides perfectly synchronised. The limbless man swivelled in his chair to face them, finally halting his pacing. Rolling. Whatever.

The robots stopped in front of him, fixing him with emotionless mechanic eyes. Their memories had already been downloaded into the Uber-Director's mind; he was acutely aware of their incompetence, being foiled by a man and a girl and their disappearing tricks. He knew that, were these robots to have possessed emotions, they should feel fear. Fear, just like all his assistants, all the humans that were daring enough to serve in his presence. For a fleeting moment, the Uber-Director relished the feeling of his power and influence over the humans that were so easily cowed… But that one man, the intruder and his woman, had shown no fear, no signs of intimidation.

And suddenly a thought struck him, momentarily distracting his mind from his fury and anger. _What if they are not human?_

"The prisoners have escaped," one of the robots informed the room, almost as if it felt the need to state the obvious. The Uber-Director glared at him, storing his thoughts for later. He had incompetent robots to deal with, musing could wait.

"Yes, and at _your_ expense," the Director spat, although he knew these words would mean nothing at all to the robots – they responded solely to commands, not conversation. He rolled his chair around to his desk, facing the screen of a computer that sat there. Blinking once, the Uber-Director activated the computer and the screen flickered to life; the Uber-Director turned his attention to his assistant, barked, "Have you contacted my associates for the auction?"

"Yes, sir. They have agreed to take you up on your offer. We should receive word back from them soon." The assistant swallowed nervously.

"Good. At least _something_ is going right." The Director fixed his eyes on the robots again. It was a pity, he thought, that this generation had turned out faulty after all. He had thought this last batch had finally been perfected, but it had become apparent that there was still room for fine-tuning – on the other hand, there was always the newer, more advanced generation of Hunters. His scientists had made quite an improvement to the prior models, and he had yet to test them for effectiveness. As soon as this situation was underhand, he would see to that as well.

"Conrad," the Uber-Director spoke in a controlled voice as he addressed his assistant once more, "I want you to replace my security with the human guards. It seems there is a significant flaw in the most recent model of our New Age robots; I will not allow incompetence in my organisation. All of the remaining robotic guards are to be terminated."

"Ah… remaining, sir?" Conrad shifted his weight, confused. To his knowledge, none of the robots had been damaged by the intruders… But the answer came as a conclusion in his head only a second too late.

With a mechanical grinding noise and a shower of sparks, each of the guards bent beneath their weight and crumpled to the ground, useless. The Director had fried the nanocircuits in their heads; the programmes in their systems reduced to nonsensical gibberish. They were dead; terminated. They were the first of their generation to die and now they would not be the last. In approximately twenty minutes, there would not be a single one in service.

"Have this mess cleared up. I want all the guards disposed of properly." The Uber-Director smiled coldly at the mass of metal bodies lying on the floor. "We cannot leave any sign of our presence when we leave this place, as you know."

"Yes, sir, of course." Conrad bowed his head, retreating from the room. "It will all be taken care of."

And then he was gone, leaving the Uber-Director alone in his office once more.

The limbless man waited in silence for an extra moment after Conrad left; he cast a cold stare at the mass of metal corpses on the floor. Then he turned his chair and rolled back behind his large desk, facing the computer. On the screen he pulled up the recording of his transmission. It was only the outgoing, not the incoming, as he had no need for the latter; sending signals to the computer from the nanocircuits wired in his brain, he fast-forwarded to the end of the recording, then set it into slow motion. He paused it on the very end, then enlarged the frame.

On the screen in front of him was a blown-up, blurry image of the man in the brown, pin-striped suit emerging from the double doors. The Uber-Director had frozen the recording on his face, studying it. He thought back to this 'meeting,' remembered how the two humans spoke in an obvious British accent. Perhaps, he mused, they were British government. Perhaps MI6 had finally succeeded in uncovering something significant, but had been stupid enough to send two of their agents into the facility with no other information.

But that didn't explain the box. That unusual, blue, mysterious box that simply disappeared right in front of his guards. If they _were_ British Intelligence... had MI6 acquired technology capable of such a feat? The ability to disappear, fade from sight and space altogether – this was something interesting. A powerful piece of technology...

The Uber-Director's eyes widened for a brief second. If MI6 – or any organisation, for that matter – possessed such advanced engineering, what other weapons might they have in their grasp? Whoever these people were, or whoever they were with, the Uber-Director knew it was a possibility that they might have a few more tricks up their sleeves – for example, the metallic device the man had simply pulled from his jacket was not of any design he had ever seen before, yet powerful enough to stun his guards and blow apart his doors! Surely he would have been alerted of such advancements in technological engineering – a box with the ability to fade from space and appear elsewhere, a probe-like device that could blow open doors without any difficulty. In addition to that, it was already apparent that this messy-haired, device-wielding man was fearless and bold; perhaps, the Director mused again, he was simply overly confident with absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Or, he was all of those things put together. The Uber-Director could not bring himself to dismiss either possibility at this point.

But bottom line, he told himself, is that these people have technology that was beyond even him, the creator and Director of the New Age. This was ultimately, the Uber-Director reluctantly admitted, a threat. If they had the means to simply disappear, they could easily reappear, presumably anywhere. It must have been how they had breached his security to begin with – it was apparent these two people and whatever organisation they worked for didn't need a literal entrance to get inside his facility; and the Director knew that no amount of security could prevent them from coming back.

However...

An evil smile spread across the Uber-Director's revolting visage, as ideas formed in his circuit-wired brain. He knew exactly what this advanced technology would be worth to his organisation. He also knew that, without their technology, these people were likely to be nothing short of defenseless. If these people were to come back, all he had to do was capture them and confiscate the box before they could return to it. Then, he had control of his intruders _and_ the possession of a profound piece of advanced technology – and after a few long, merciless interrogations and some reverse engineering, the Director would be even more powerful – the world's superpowers would be eating out the palm of his ha—

The Uber-Director halted mid-thought. Sometimes he hated the irony of his situation. But he quickly decided that he would not let a Freudian slip faze him. He sighed, and couldn't help another cunning grin.

His gaze returned to the massive heap of ruined metal laying all around him.

Yes, all he needed was to make sure he could get a hold on them – and he knew exactly how.

The Uber-Director shifted his eyes to the image on his computer screen, grinning maniacally at the British man in the suit. Yes, oh yes. He would play right into the Director's metaphorical hands – he and his little blonde accomplice. The Uber-Director chuckled to himself. They would never know what hit them.

* * *

Well. That's over with. O.o What's the Limbless Wonder planning? Too bad he don't know who he's messin' with. If he could wear boots, he would be quakin' in 'em! No, I really can't stop making fun of him. It's too much fun.

--Jingles cup at passers-by, pointing at laptop-- "Will write for reviews!" Are any of you out there? Anyone? Hello!

--points at closet-- See that? It looks like a closet, but it's actually the door to my laboratory. (Don't tell dad!) I've perfected the art of cloning, and I've recently made a dozen copies of both the Doctor and Fang. None of them have memories and (it's been tested!) they will do whatever you want! They're for sale, too! Not too expensive - just a little ol' review each! So drop me a comment - you know you want to!

(And for any straight male-reviewers out there, I have yet to find something worthy of cloning for you, so if you have any preferences let me know. XD)

* * *


	4. Freedom at a Price

An update! Woohoo! Because I'm trying to keep this balanced in terms of the catagories, this chap is Max's point of view (with a tiny POV change thrown in the middle). Max's POV is always gonna be in first person, although I might vasilate between first and second person, depending on if I'm writing from te perspective of another person in the Flock, like Angel or Fang.

For those of you that are familiar with the MR book, this is set immediately after Max jumps out the window of the DC building after their second meeting with the government. For those of you that aren't... well, Max just jumped out a window in the DC building. Already said that, but anyway. Onward!

**Disclaimer:** Patterson made a big mess of the last book. I'm just playing Janitor. :)

**

* * *

****Chapter Four: Freedom at a Price**

The air rushed past my face, whipping through my hair and filling my lungs. Freedom sent adrenaline and exhilaration surging through my veins like blood; I pushed myself higher, feeling weightless amidst the bright blue sky. The trees were rapidly reduced to a mass of green outside the Capital Building, the people and cars below were shrunk to the size of insects.

We were free. Out in the open. Supported by nothing but feathers and air.

And it felt so good.

"Where are we going, Max?" Gazzy called up at me. The rest of my Flock had fallen into formation alongside me, sailing powerfully and looking as relieved as I felt. It wasn't often they looked happy – how often did we have stuff to be happy about? – and seeing them like that now only made me feel better.

"Does it matter?" I shouted back. I saw him shake his head, grinning boyishly.

"Didn't think so," I said to myself, and surged upward.

* * *

"Look!" Gazzy pointed suddenly, smiling at a great, five-sided building down below. "The Pentagon!" He banked a hard left and shot straight for it. "I always wanted to see it!"

Iggy flew right after him, typical. "Me too!" He shouted sarcastically.

"Yeah, you can touch it and feel that it's white," I said, rolling my eyes. But all of us turned to follow them downward; a little detour couldn't hurt, could it?

"DIVE BOMB!" Gazzy cried; he tucked in his speckled wings and bulleted downward, angling for the Pentagon.

"No, Gazzy, don't!" I yelled after him, although I knew he wouldn't listen, the maniacal little bird kid that he was. "That's a government building! They're more paranoid than we are!"

The Gasman gave an almost evil cackle, swooped down within fifty feet of the Pentagon's roof. At the last second, he tucked into a fast flip and rocketed upward; the six of us banked left and right and raced, practicing the swoops and turns we'd learned from the hawks. We performed split-second formations and loops, our own aerial ballet.

Not much time had passed, maybe a few minutes or so, and I started to call for us to head out. But my yell was interrupted when a roar filled the air. My head snapped to the side, eyes wide. Two jets streaked in our direction, menacing and black against the sky.

"What's wrong with them?" Nudge flapped close, a hand at her mouth.

"We violated the Pentagon's airspace," Fang guessed, shouting. Was that panic on his face? How surprising, some actual _emotion_. I heard Total yell something about knowing better, but I was hardly paying attention. I yelled for us to split, and we surged upward, turning tail as fast as we could and shooting away from the Pentagon. The jets roared ever closer as we scrambled to gain speed.

Who had sent them? Were they automatically sent to eliminate anything over the Pentagon's airspace? Or had the Surprise Mutant Solution Committee decided that 'no' was not the answer they were looking for?

I sure as heck wasn't stickin' around to find out.

We rocketed onward, but for all our speed the jets were gaining. Fast. And there was nowhere to go. I cast a glance around, scanning the area. There! The trees. _Head for the trees!_

"INTO THE TREES!" I shouted, almost screaming over the roar of the jets. Me in the lead, we banked hard to the right and sped towards the few acres of trees. It was a weensy forest, but it was all I had. And I was gonna take what I could get.

I tucked my wings in, holding them tight against my body; I fell like a rock, and the Flock followed my example. We skimmed low, only ten yards off the ground; I snapped my wings out, flapping powerfully as I sped slightly ahead, mapping a path between the trees. The wind rushed past, whipping my hair from my face and tugging at my clothes. I had to be going almost two-hundred – not hard if you were me and you could practically fly supersonic. I readied myself, preparing to flip sideways to enter the forest's edge. _Five, four, thre—_

Movement caught my eye. A figure stepped out from behind a trunk, suddenly blocking my path. And holding a gun that was pointing at me. I was only seconds from hitting the figure; my heart sputtered but my body reacted immediately.

"UP!" I screeched. I angled my wings, braking painfully against the air and aiming upward; the strain on my muscles spread like fire through my wings, but I heard a scream from behind me as I shot above the forest. Nudge. The Flock. My pain was irrelevant at that moment, and that thought alone was more effective than endorphins had ever thought about being.

I whipped around, angling back to my Flock. I heard the scream again, saw Nudge brake unsteadily and roll left. The rest of the Flock had scattered. The jets suddenly lifted higher and roared overhead before pulling tight turns. But then I heard gunfire from below the trees. He – or she – or it – or... whoever – was shooting at us! My Flock had suddenly taken off in all directions, climbing high in the air. I looked to the sky – the jets had looped back, heading in our direction again.

Looking down again, I shot towards the edge of the forest, looped around; I caught a glimpse of the figure – running back into the forest. Setting my jaw, I flipped sideways and slipped between the trees. This dude wasn't getting off so easily.

Slipping and weaving through the trunks and dodging branches, I bulleted through the forest. The figure ran on, sprinting steadily across the forest floor; he – or she – easily cleared a fallen log and kept going, unrelenting. I sped up, concentrating hard on navigating through the thickening forest. But I had been so busy focusing that the obvious took a while to occur to me. The thought hit me like a baseball bat to the stomach, only in slow motion. If that's even possible.

This dude was way too fast for a human.

There was a clearing up ahead – large enough to be a small field; the obviously-not-human figure took a sudden turn, heading straight for it. I made an on-a-dime turn and twisted around a tree. I misjudged my angling and nearly ripped my wing off on a branch; I recovered quickly and pushed myself harder.

The figure sprinted full out through the forest, headed directly for the clearing. I readied myself, preparing to kick on the speed as soon as I broke through the trees. One... two... and—

He turned. The figure whipped to the right, changing direction at the very last second. The movement took me surprise and I swept past at a good sixty miles an hour, out into the bright light of the clearing. Swearing, I banked hard and faced the forest, speeding back to the trees; I'd overshot the edge of the clearing by nearly half a block.

But then he was there again. He moved in a single, lightning-fast movement, appearing from behind a tree trunk. He appeared at the last second, directly in front of me, only meters away; he – or it, rather – was a humanoid creature (obviously not human!) with skin coloured green and brown like the forest; it's eyes were like a snake's, wide with slits for pupils. I reacted, angling upward at the last second, but too late.

With a movement so fast even I could barely see it, the creature leaped up and lashed out, driving what must have been its heel into the side of my ribcage. The force of it knocked my breath away, sending me sprawling to the ground from ten feet in the air. Pain erupted through my side – a broken rib; I sucked in air, attempting to fill my lungs again. Only a few seconds later I was on my feet, level with the Thing that had literally kicked me out of the air. I didn't take time to look the Thing over – I lashed out, swinging around in powerful roundhouse to its head.

It ducked, my heel missing its temple by an inch; it didn't wait to fight back, leapt into a full scissor-kick aimed at my chest. I blocked, brought my knee up to deflect the kick and smashed my fist into its head. My hand collided with the creature's noggin with a crack that echoed around the clearing; fire spread through my knuckles as I felt the overly-familiar feeling of bone snapping in my hand.

I didn't hold back the curse that flew from my mouth. It echoed around the clearing together with the sound of cracking bone.

But I also didn't have time to recover. The moment I recoiled, the creature leapt forward and aimed a backwards kick at my stomach, seeming completely unfazed that I'd just smashed his head with enough force to crack an average human's skull. Another reason why this dude couldn't be classified as an average human. Lightning fast, hard-headed, and just a little on the _recombinant_ side, if you know what I mean.

There was no way the Surprise Mutant Solution Committee had anything to do with this. This had to be Itex or the School. And that meant that these were their new henchmen.

That also meant that they'd found us again.

You could say that I was thinking a much naughtier word than 'crap' at that moment.

The Thing shoved its human-looking-but-not-human-at-all foot into my stomach, knocking me on my back. I lashed out again, using my foot to sweep its legs out from underneath it. It jumped, another lightning-fast move, and aimed another kick at my side. I held my arm out reflexively – the same arm with the cracked knuckles – and deflected the kick with my forearm. Big mistake.

There was another crack as my radius snapped in two. I forced down a cry of pain and rolled to my feet, immediately placing a roundhouse in my attacker's chest. The kick connected solidly, but the creature only stumbled back a few feet, righted itself, and lunged again, arms outstretched. It raked the air with claws that had appeared outta nowhere. I jumped back, out of reach, but tripped over something on the ground and fell flat on my back. I scrambled up and backed away, chest heaving. My body was screaming and groaning all over – how long had it been since I had fought hand-to-hand? I was getting my butt kicked!

Only a second or so had passed when both of us stood still, listening. A shrill scream rang out from past the forest, echoing over the trees. I heard gunfire. Someone shouted my name – I recognised Fang's voice, too far away. The Flock.

The Flock was in trouble, enough trouble for Fang to yell for me – and that was almost unheard of. I turned my attention immediately, too ready to leave my attacker behind. I whipped around and launched myself upward, wings unfurling.

Something hard slammed into my back and fire spread through my left wing, down from my shoulder. I fell to the ground again, probably very much like a sack of potatoes or a bag of rocks. I landed hard; pain seared through my already broken ribs and knocked my breath away. The weight disappeared from my back, but I could barely move. I felt something warm oozing from my shoulder, pain spreading through my broken arm and hand and surging through my cracked ribs. My head throbbed where I'd hit the ground and my lip was bleeding. I attempted to move, to get back up on my feet or at least to my knees, but I got no further than lifting my head.

The last thing I saw were the feet of the creature as one of them collided with the side of my head.

The world went black.

* * *

**-Fang's POV-**

They were swarming. Flowing from the trees like water, forming a perimeter around us. I lifted my head, spitting dirt and feeling warmth spread through my body. Jumping to my feet, I looked down to see several feathered darts sticking out of my arm; I yanked them out, wincing. Tranquilisers. The others were lifting themselves from the ground, looking woozy; had Nudge screamed? Our bags were scattered all over the ground. And we were surrounded by almost a hundred figures that had skin the colour of the forest – mottled shades of green and brown. Their snake-like eyes were fixed on us, standing at the ready. I looked all around. There was a Time Warner truck driving across the grass in our direction. Three words ran through my head all at once.

School. Itex. Captured.

I did a head count; we were one short. Max was still gone, having flown somewhere into the forest. Slight panic welled in my chest; had they gotten her as well? I looked around again, briefly wondering why none of the freaky creatures were attacking.

But then I felt the drowsiness sinking into my muscles. My tongue felt fuzzy, my vision blurring. My wings wouldn't work, my legs wouldn't respond.

I mustered strength to shout out before my body gave way beneath me, submitting to the tranquilisers. The others had already fallen to the ground, unconscious. The creatures standing around us were closing in, taking their time... I filled my lungs with air and faced the forest.

"MAX!"

* * *

**-And Back to Max-**

It was quiet. That was the first thing I noticed. I lifted my head, just to let it fall to the ground again.

I was in pain. That was the second thing I noticed – the reason I could barely lift my head. I felt like I had been dropped into a car compactor, been crushed to the edge of death, taken out, and beaten with a metal baseball bat. And then run over by a semi.

My head throbbed and my right wing was stiff. I could barely move my left arm and my chest was on fire. My mouth tasted of blood. I opened my eyes slowly, saw the dirt and grass around where I lay. Trees up ahead. Fading sunlight. My mind sputtered, memory faltering. I blinked, looked back at the trees; one word went through my mind, but it was all I needed to jog my memory.

Forest. Itex. School. The Flock. A scream. _Fang had called my name…_

The silence that fell upon my ears was not comforting. The creature that had attacked me was gone, but the Flock was nowhere, not a sound disrupted the forest. Alarms went off in my head and my heart sputtered with panic. I lifted my head again, started to push myself off the ground; the sudden desperation to find my Flock made my immense pain a little less of a problem. Moving anything still hurt like the underworld, but it didn't matter. Something had happened to my family, and if the School was involved, it could only mean seriously bad news.

Heaving myself to my feet, I stretched my wings. My joints were stiff, and a sharp pain shot through my left wing from my shoulder. I looked down at myself and grimaced. I was covered in bruises and blood.

Taking a tentative step forward, I gritted my teeth and set my shoulders; biting back the pain, I launched myself forward, breaking into a run towards the trees. Then I leapt up, bit back a cry of pain, and extended my wings, lifting into the air. My path was shaky, hoping endorphins would take care of my broken bones long enough for me to make it over the forest. I needed to refine my street skills – it had been a while since the last time I'd cracked a rib, and I felt like a sissy, giving into a little pain. For anyone else, it was probably a good thing when you didn't have broken bones... but what can I say? Bird kids on the run can't afford the simple luxuries of life without being hunted down or wanted as lab-rats.

But there were more important things on the line than my discomfort. I couldn't see the Flock anywhere.

I landed on shaky legs, limped to a stop as I cleared the forest. My heart fluttered once, and then began to pound frantically. The wide open space before me was empty. Nothing. Not a spec in the sky, not a whisper on the wind. I looked around, and my panic only multiplied. Limping over a ways, I came upon our bags, thrown into a hurried pile beneath a bush. Beside them, scuffles in the dirt and grass. Something in the grass glinted in the late afternoon sun; I carefully bent over and picked it up, breathing shallowly past my cracked ribs. I examined the object, and my eyes darkened. It was a feathered dart. A tranquiliser dart.

My hands balled into fists, fingers curling around the dart. I hissed a little, remembering the fractures in my left knuckles, but tried to ignore the pain. I lifted my head, scanning the horizon. Nothing. Not a trace. Only tire tracks leading to the clearing and looping back to the freeway, but that meant nothing, only confirmed my fears.

The Flock had been captured; taken. _My_ Flock. In the hands of the School and Itex. Again.

Images of their faces flashed through my mind. Fang. Nudge. Gazzy. Iggy. Angel, my baby. Total. All of them. Gone, without a trace. And something told me they weren't going to be taken back to California.

Shoving the dart into my bag, I fell to my knees, wincing. I dug through my bag, searching. Once I found what I was looking for, I stood and began to gather our things, carefully loading myself down.

And then I did something I've never, ever done in my entire life.

I called my mom.

* * *

Yes, Whovians, she's never called her own mother! (Well, that's only because she's never had a cell phone and she only discovered she had a Mom in like the third book, so...) Anyway. I have Doctor, Iggy, and Fang clones now. Thing is, my lab is getting really cramped. I've got five of each person (Only one of the Doctors is reserved for Lexie, sorry) _To Lexie, if she's reading: He's on his way tomorrow! Should arrive in a day or so! :) _So if anyone would like to, you know, REVIEW and adopt one of my dear little clones, I would be much obliged. But I do mean that - I did create them, after all... they're like my children... -sniff- They grow so fast!! Waaah!

-sniffs- So review, my friends. I would love to see my 'ittle clones find a good home!!

-Dots ;)


	5. Battered and Bruised

Yay! I updated again. This chapter is a bit on the longish side, it took me about two days to write. But hey, I prefer longish over short.

-To IAmTheBoss: thank you for adding me to your story alert! You're probably going to end up getting both of these updates, even though they're the same (listed under two catagories, but it's the same story). I also saw that you had a lot of my tags on your profile! I hadn't expected that!

-To my reviewers: I love you all!! Also, thank you, And the Eternally Silent (again), for adopting an Iggy clone, you made him a very happy bird kid. :)

**Disclaimer**: I have a Doctor clone, but I don't own Doctor Who. Oh, and Patterson broke story, I fix it. XD

* * *

**Chapter Five: Battered and Bruised**

_-Fang's POV-_

The truck bumped along.

Fang's hands, bound tightly behind his back, were growing numb from poor circulation and he couldn't move his legs – the man in the back of the truck (Fang had assumed the man was human, but he wasn't quite sure) had made sure that each of the Flock were tightly bound and gagged, wings and all. Nudge had screamed once after waking – wailing _past_ the gag in her mouth – and had earned a solid kick in the side. None of them had moved, let alone made noise, after that one warning.

And Fang had a serious headache. With every bump in the road, his head banged against the floor. He had no idea where they were going or how long they'd been driving, but he'd already decided it had been far too long for his liking. Much more of this bumping, he thought, and he'd end up with a minor concussion. And that was saying something.

His eyes wandered over the rest of the Flock; they were squashed against the edges of the van. Iggy had his eyes closed and lay slumped against Gazzy's legs. Nudge and Angel had somehow managed to be laying together, back to back, hands touching and staring at nothing in particular. Total had been tied up as well; he was curled up against Angel, apparently asleep. Gazzy was on his back, staring absently at the ceiling. Fang had ended up on his stomach, one side of his face against the floor, lying closest to the man slouching sleepily in the corner. Their guard.

Fang's mind wandered as he surveyed his group. Max hadn't been taken with them – he could only wonder what had happened to her after disappearing into the forest. Had she gotten away? Did she know they'd been taken? Or more importantly, would she be able to find them?

He considered what Max would have done. If she had gotten away, she might have found their bags lying out in the field where they'd been left – assuming, of course, that their captors hadn't attempted to cover their tracks. If she had or hadn't found their bags, she would see the tire tracks left by the van. With the rest of the Flock missing, she would be able to put the pieces together. Tire tracks plus missing Flock equals capture by School – or, as it was more recently, Itex. Not that one was much better than the other.

But doubt flickered across his mind. What if she hadn't made it? Those creatures that had surrounded them outside the forest – she'd chased after one of them and hadn't returned. What if... He cut the thought off, dismissing it. No. Max was tough. Freakish creature from the School or not, Max was Max. She always pulled through. No exceptions.

Angel looked over at him from her corner of the van, staring at him with big blue eyes; she'd been listening to his thoughts. Max would pull through, he told himself again, staring back at the young girl. Max would find them. She would help bust them out.

But the doubt still lingered. Fang dozed as best he could through the remaining hour of the drive, letting his uneasiness slip away as his consciousness did. But when he woke again in the cargo hold of a private jet surrounded by an unconscious Flock, the doubt turned to dread.

And this time the dread didn't go away.

* * *

_-Max POV-_

The phone had hardly rung once when my mom answered.

"Max! Is everything alright?"

"No," I said unsteadily. "We're kinda in trouble." _Sheesh, Max, that was lame._

"What, what's happened?" Her voice rose half an octave. "Are you hurt? Is the Flock okay?"

"No, I'm not hurt... not really." Well that was a lie – I had, like, five broken bones and enough bruises to make me look purple. "But the Flock is gone. I'm alright, but I think they've been taken by Itex. There was this... _thing_ – it's not human, it attacked us. I think there might have been more than one. It knocked me out and now the Flock is gone. There're tire tracks, so I'm pretty sure they were taken by van. I found a tranquiliser dart – they were drugged and taken."

The whole thing had come out in a rush as I limped through the field, sagging beneath the weight of our bags as I tried to build enough speed to take off. Mom was silent for a full five seconds; I pumped my wings, managing to jump a foot in the air and gain altitude from there, climbing unsteadily into the sky.

"Itex?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." I winced a little as my ribs twinged under the strain of my baggage. I angled east, knowing where I had to go but hating every second of it. I had no idea where the Flock was being taken, and even if they were being taken back to California, I couldn't fly that far in the condition I was in. It would take me days, even in good health. I had to go back to DC.

"Do you think they're going to the School?" I could tell she was trying hard to keep herself composed.

"I don't know," I said, forcing down a grunt. Breathing was painful and my voice wheezed – my ribs were sore as the underworld. Luckily they were already healing – I'd done my best to realign them. But they would still take a day or so to be back to normal.

There was a pause. I imagined she was biting her lip. Hard.

"Oh – Max, honey, Jeb is here. He – he wants to talk to you. You'll have to – to tell him." A pause. I could almost hear her swallow thickly on the other side of the line. "Please, be safe."

I swallowed back another hiss of pain, forced down the muddled emotions building in my stomach. "I will," I promised; I grimaced at the mention of Jeb's name. I didn't want to talk to him. Not now. "Give Ella a hug for me."

"I will. Bye, honey." I heard her sniff; was she crying? The thought made me realise the considerably sized lump in my throat. I swallowed it down, focused on the movement of my wings, their steady rotations... Not going to cry, not going to cry... why did I feel like crying? I was Max Ride. I did _not_ cry.

There was a bit of static as the phone was handed over.

"Max?" Jeb's voice held a hint of panic. "What's going on?"

The sound of his voice eliminated any softy-emotions I might have harboured at that moment. I was suddenly all business. Jeb seemed to have that effect on me.

"The Flock has been taken," I told him, all traces of emotion gone. "I think Itex has found us again. We were chased by some jets and something shot at us from the woods. It was some creature – not human, but it didn't look animal either. I followed the Thing that shot as us and it knocked me out. When I woke up the Flock was gone – they were tranquilised and loaded into a van. I've got all of our bags."

Jeb said nothing for a moment, processing my information. I kicked up my speed, gaining height and pushing myself faster.

"Are you sure it was Itex?"

"Unless there's some other mutant-creating facility out there that you haven't told me about, yeah, I'm sure." My tone was sharp. What kind of question was that? _Um, duh?_

"Did you see them being taken?" he seemed unfazed by my tone. Typical Jeb.

"No. But I found tire tracks and a tranquiliser dart."

Another pause. That seemed enough for him. "The creature you saw – was there more than one?"

"I only saw one. There might be more, but I'm not sure." I scanned the ground below, trying to remember any landmarks that would lead me back. As unappealing as 'going back' was, I knew I had no other choice. It was almost dark, and I was covered in blood and bruises and broken bones. And I was hungry. Very, very hungry.

"Are you on the move now?" He phrased his question carefully. He knew I couldn't give away my location, just in case the line was bugged.

"Yes." The thought reminded me of the fact I still ached all over; I still held my left arm to my chest, cradling the broken appendage and trying not to jostle it too much. I hadn't taken time to bandage myself up, and I was still bleeding from the various cuts on my arms and hands.

"Are you hurt?"

"A little." Another lie. It wasn't as convincing this time. Or, at least, Jeb knew what kind of fights I had a habit of getting into.

"Max," he said. "You need to take care of your injuries first. There's nothing you can do for the Flock right now. You need to set any broken bones and clean your cuts. Your mother won't have you getting infected."

I scowled. He just _had _to bring Mom into this, didn't he? "Yeah, okay." My tone indicated I had no intention of listening to him, and I'm sure he knew that full well. Suddenly something nudged at my mind, and I said, "Jeb – you're not the Voice?"

He seemed a little thrown off by the change in topic. Good. "I'm not the Voice, but I can do the Voice," he said. "That's all part of the larger picture."

I scowled at his cryptic answer. Was it even _possible_ for the picture to get any bigger? And how the heck could he just 'do' the Voice?

"And that means?" I pressed impatiently; even though I already knew what he would say, I figured it was worth a shot to ask anyway.

"That's for later, Max," he said flatly.

See, what did I tell ya? Can't get a straight answer from anyone these days.

"Whatever," I told him, knowing it always drove him up the wall. He sighed.

There was a short silence. I flew on, very aware of the temperature dropping as the sun slid closer to the western horizon. My stomach grumbled, but I ignored it.

"Look, Max, your mom and I trust you to do the right thing; we have to go, so I'm going to trust you now to do what's best for yourself tonight. We'll try and work on things from our end. Keep yourself safe."

Oh, so now he was getting all lovey and dad-like. Yay.

"Alright," I said with a sigh. I resisted the urge to say 'whatever,' if just for my mother's sake. No doubt she was right there beside him at that moment, chewing a fingernail as she listened to Jeb's half of our conversation.

"Your mom and I send our love," he added, voice still border-lining gooey and emotional. I resisted another sigh.

The phone clicked dead. I stared at it for a moment, then closed it and shoved it into my right pocket. There were cars and streets down below. I was, maybe, twenty minutes away from the DC building. I could see it in the distance with my raptor vision. The sight made my (empty) stomach turn; it was not the place I felt like visiting at the moment.

I flew on, carefully adjusted the bags slung over my back and hung across my good shoulder. They were almost deadweight, but I pressed on. I didn't have far to go. If my guess was right, they would have gone back to the motel we'd stayed in the night before and then headed out the next morning. Getting inside... well...

I decided I'd jump that hurdle when I got to it. Right now, I figured I should focus more on flying in a straight line and convincing my stomach that eating itself was not in its best interests. And to also focus on persuading my body that hurting so much was unnecessary, and that it should either ease up on the pain or be generous with the endorphins.

The sun slipped closer to the horizon, and the cold was beginning to set in; I could feel the chill through my thin clothing – I hadn't exactly dressed for being on the run. I resisted a shiver.

After another few minutes of flying, I changed my course and veered right, heading in the direction of the motel I knew my mom and Jeb would be staying at. It was small, a little on the dumpy side, but it had served us well the night before. Would they have the same room? Yes... we hadn't been planning on leaving until tomorrow.

I angled towards the ground, landed in the back parking lot as quietly as I could. I limped to the window of the room we'd checked out, peered in. Lo and behold, there was my mom, sitting in one of the chairs and drinking coffee, staring at the wall.

I suddenly realised that this would be just a little awkward. I still hadn't cleaned myself up... But hey, it was better than going to see Jeb. I used that thought as my motivation and limped to the door. I knocked lightly, shivering a little in the chilly air.

I heard a scuffle behind the door; the sound of the chain being unlocked. Mom opened the door a crack, peering outside. Her eyes widened when she saw me, flung the door open.

"Oh, Max!" She cried, face contorted with a mix of surprise and horror.

Within seconds I had been ushered into the living room and Mom had relocked the door, closed the strange drapes over the windows. "Honey, you're covered in blood! You said you weren't hurt!"

I didn't know what to say; she disengaged the bags from my shoulder and back and pulled me into a hug. I grunted, trying to mask the fact I still had broken ribs and an almost useless left arm. But she heard it anyway, pulled back to look at me. Suddenly she was in veterinary mode, digging through my bag for my first aid kit. (Don't leave home without it, kids!) She pulled out bandages and rubbing alcohol and a bunch of other medical stuff. Somehow I found my tongue, having lost it the second I'd stepped through the door.

"I'm alright," I told her, struggling to pull off my jacket with one arm. "Believe it or not, this is normal for me."

"I'm sorry it's like this," she said. "I wish things were different." She was already tending to my shoulder, cleaning the blood from my feathers and pulling aside my ripped shirt. I nearly screamed as she poured the antiseptic into my wound.

"Yeah, me too." I wasn't sure what else to say to that. "Is Jeb in his room?"

"Yes. Did you want to see him?" She'd moved on, working further down my wing. "Did that creature do this to you?"

"No. I mean yes." I sighed. "No to the first, yes to the second. I've never seen anything like that thing before. It looked like a human, but its skin was green and brown and it had these freaky snake eyes and claws..."

She frowned; she finished with my shoulder and inspected the arm I'd been holding to my chest. It was swollen and my skin was mottled with bruises.

"This is broken," she told me, examining my forearm with skilled fingers. "Has it been set?"

I said it was and she sighed. Mom ran her fingernails through her hair, looked up at me. Her eyes were sad and she looked tired. I hugged her with my good arm and she hugged back.

"About earlier," I said suddenly, letting go and taking a step back; I dug through my bag on the floor, searching. "The meeting – those dudes were just creeping me out. And Angel..." my throat tightened at the memory of my Flock. "Angel wanted to get out of there. We all did."

"They were so arrogant," Mom agreed, nodding. "I don't see why they didn't want to do anything to stop the School when the whole thing's going on within their own country. It doesn't make any sense."

We went silent; I pulled the tranquiliser dart out of my bag and handed it to her.

"This is what drugged them," I said, dropping it into her palm. "It was lying in the grass where they were taken."

Mom nodded again. "You did good, Max. I'm proud of you." She rested a hand on my good shoulder, looked me over, concern in her eyes. "You should shower so I can wrap up your arm."

I managed a smile. I couldn't pass up a shower, could I?

* * *

Their landing was no smoother than usual.

The Doctor and Rose stumbled to the door, trying to regain their balance along the way. The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors just a crack, peering outside. Rose watched the look on his face turn from anxious to confused. He pulled the doors open all the way, frowning. Rose's eyebrow went up when she saw what was outside.

It was dark. And hot. The air was thick and humid; Rose thought she could smell seawater in the air. The two travellers stood back, staring out at the landscape surrounding them. It was modern, as far as Rose could tell in the dark. There were palm trees in the distance, swaying calmly in the night-time breeze. It was definitely Earth, by the looks of it, but that was all she could tell. Rose blinked, looked over at the Doctor. He stood with his hands in his pockets, surveying the area, brows furrowed.

"You know," he said severely, "I don't think this is Belgium."

* * *

Fudge to who can figure out where they landed! (Hint: it's in the book!)

So, my friends, review! To any reviewers that have not yet requested a clone, there are still three Doctors that are wasting away with boredom in my lab. They want to have new homes, be loved, have good friends. Please adopt today!

(Two, _please_ stop giving me that look. You know as well as I do that I can't keep all four of you here. 'Sides, you'll have less competition for the bananas I smuggle for you guys. I'm going broke as it is.) Escuse that, I was talking to the clone standing over my shoulder. XD

So review, friends. I love you all for your kindness!

Bye! -Dots


	6. Of Things That Go Bump and the Night

I'm back! I am severely sorry for the wait – had so much going on, schoolwork and all that – but I'm back! And just a note for this chapter – I think I'm only going to stick with the three perspectives, with the occasional, rare deviation. I'll be mainly writing from Fang in third person, the Doctor and Rose in third person (alternating between the two of them) and Max will always be in first. Anyway. Just thought I'd inform you all.

This is a very short chap. But the next will be longer - promise!

**Disclaimer: Only the new recombinants belong to me. Don't sue.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Six; Of Things That Go Bump and the Night**

The air was hot.

Fang could feel the sweat trickling down his temple and down his back; he struggled to breathe past the humidity and the damp rag between his teeth. He and the Flock had been bound and gagged and blindfolded as soon as the jet had landed. Fang had been dragged and practically tossed into their 'transport' – probably some kind of van – along with the rest of the Flock. This time the blindfolds weren't removed, and he could only wonder about where they were possibly being taken. Wonder and listen.

Every once in a while – Fang estimated that they had been on the road for about an hour – he felt Angel in his mind, just a brief tug that told him she was there. His thoughts wandered – to Max, to Dr. Martinez, to the School and Itex. The freakish, snake-eyed creatures that had been in the forest when they were captured were obviously Itexicon's new henchmen. Max had chased one into the trees, but she hadn't come out again – that had to mean something. If Max had really gotten away, maybe they weren't any tougher than all the other robots and experiments they'd faced before.

The thought comforted him enough for his clenched fists to loosen some. The odds that Max had gotten away were quite high – she was a tough chick (_pardon the pun_), tougher than he cared to admit most of the time. She was the leader – Fang was almost convinced she was capable of pretty much anything when she set her mind to it.

He couldn't help remembering what had happened back on the dock after the first meeting with the government; they still hadn't talked about it. He had kissed her – and if he remembered correctly, she _had_ kissed back, even if she'd flown off afterwards. She was so..._touchy_ when it came to their relationship. There were times when he really wished he could read thoughts, just to know what was going through her mind. Sometimes she was as obvious as a pink chair in a black room, but other times... it was impossible to figure her out. Maybe he would randomly develop the ability to hear people's thoughts, like Iggy had with the colours.

If Fang hadn't been gagged, he would have sighed. Their lives were so complicated. And just when things were starting to look up, even a little – Itex returns! And now here they were, bound, gagged, and blind in a hot, bouncing truck with no idea where they were being taken. _Bring out the banner and have a parade_, Fang thought grimly.

The truck – van – whatever it was – hit another bump in the road and Fang's head thumped against the floor. He winced.

It was going to be a very long drive.

* * *

Rose pulled her hair out of her face, already feeling the effects of the sticky air. They stood outside the doorway of the TARDIS, watching as the palm trees swayed in the slight breeze. The Doctor was rocking back and forth on his heels, brows slightly furrowed.

"Where are we, exactly?" Rose wondered aloud, staring up at the sky. The moon was out, casting pale white light across the tops of trees and houses.

"Dunno," the Doctor said. "Obviously somewhere tropical. This seems to be Earth, still 21st Century, judging by the cars and architecture, so I wasn't too off.

"We could be anywhere," she observed. "Like Mexico or the Mediterranean or something." She nudged the Doctor in the side. "We should try again, yeah?"

The Doctor seemed to debate on his answer before responding. "Maybe we should have a look around first," he said, still frowning.

Rose considered this for a moment, looking up at the dark sky above. "'S dark, though. Can hardly see anything out here."

The Doctor gave her a sidelong look. "You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" he asked seriously. Rose's mouth opened and closed before she could speak, surprised by his sudden question.

"What? No! Of course not."

"Ah, right." She heard the doubt in his tone, sent him a Look. She punched him in the bicep.

"Oi, I am _not_ afraid of the dark."

"I didn't say you were." He grinned to himself, looking smug.

"But you were thinkin' it!"

"Reading minds now, are we?"

"I didn't mean I was – ugh!" She threw her hands up, exasperated, and disappeared back into the TARDIS. Rose pointedly stripped off her hoodie and tossed it over the railing by the consol. Then, she stalked past the Doctor and into the night. The Time Lord grinned, locking the TARDIS behind him before striding after her.

But neither of them had noticed the figure crouched in the shadows atop the palm tree across the street.

Having seen enough, it dropped silently to the ground and disappeared into the night.

* * *

.....

Yes, that's all. I'm such a tease sometimes.

Don't hurt me..... Yell at me in a review instead! (No but really, I don't expect a review on such a short piece of nothing. It's a terrible teaser, I know.)

Trying to get to work on the next chapter! Finally caught a break from homework. Sort of. XD

-Dots


	7. Of Journeys, License Plates, and Walls

I'm back again! Woo! This chap is way longer than the last, as promised. N-joy! Oh, and I sorta apologise in advance for skipping around in POVs so much. I'm juggling a bunch of persepctives at once because it speeds up the plotline and makes updating easier. :)

Thanx for reading and reviewing, as always!

* * *

**Chapter Seven; Of Journeys, License Plates, and Those White Walls  
**

There was soft light streaming in through the window across the room.

Momentarily confused and muddled, I blinked, rubbing my eyes with one hand. _Why am I facing the ceiling? Where am I? How did I get here? Where's the Flock?_

I suddenly snapped into a sitting position, eyes going wide as it all came rushing back. The Flock. Itex. Taken. Mom. Jeb. Hotel. Washington DC. _Taken_.

With the rush of memory came the awareness of the pain now shooting through almost every inch of muscle in my body. I winced and gritted my teeth as I heaved my aching body out of the cheap motel bed; I saw our bags piled in a corner of the room, but Mom's bed was empty. I heard water running in the bathroom. She must have been taking shower. I made a beeline for our bags, shooting a glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was ten to eight in the morning. Had I really slept that long? I pushed the thought aside and combed my fingers through my hair.

_So_, I thought. The Flock was gone. Itex was back. Well, that wasn't entirely true – Itex had never really been 'gone' to begin with, it was simply that we had vanished from their sight with absolutely no desire to deal with them again. But despite our preferences, it was obvious we were no longer hidden in the shadows. It was times like this that I began to wonder if we were really _ever_ under the radar – it didn't seem to matter where we went or how we got there – Itex or the School caught up with us some way or another.

Still wincing, I kneeled down beside our packs and began to sort through my things, condensing the contents of my bag until it had reached a whole new level of conservative. I had two pairs of clothes, my windbreaker, first aid, my Max Ride credit card, water, and a bit of food. I had already decided my plan of action: find a lead and follow it; improvise when necessary; keep moving; don't get caught; avoid contact with people as much as possible.

Chewing a mouthful of a bread roll I'd snagged from my bag, I made to zip up my pack but stopped, eyes falling on Fang's bag. On an impulse, I reached over and pulled it open, gently lifting out his laptop. I weighed it in my hand for a moment, and then slipped it into my pack. Something told me it would prove a valuable resource along the way, and I was prepared to use whatever I could to find my family. Every bit would help.

Once my pack was ready and my carb-loaded breakfast was in my stomach, I checked over my injuries. My ribs were only sore now, and my cuts and bruises were already well on their way to being healed; my left arm and hand were mending a little slower than I would have preferred, but I would deal. My wings were fine; the scratches had healed and I was only a little stiff. I quickly threw on fresh clothes and shoved my torn, bloodied ones into a trash bag. I wouldn't be able to wear them anymore - not in that state, anyway.

I was fully dressed when Mom came out of the bathroom. She stopped when she saw me, looking only partially surprised that I was awake and dressed and carrying a backpack over my good arm. Her hair was damp from her shower and she looked tired.

"Are you leaving now?" She asked; her voice was controlled so she sounded more like Dr Martinez than who I'd come to call 'Mom.' I nodded, shoving aside my emotions and letting my priorities dissolve the lump in my throat. I grimaced a little at what I was about to say.

"I have to see Jeb," I said, hating every syllable that made up the statement. "I have to know where else Itex might have taken them – I don't think they've been taken back to California." I didn't need to say who 'them' was. I'd made my point perfectly clear.

Mom nodded and wrapped her robe around herself more tightly. I suddenly realised how small she looked; tired, probably afraid, too. On an impulse I gathered up my bag and slung it over my shoulder; I went over and wrapped my mother in a one-armed hug that she gratefully returned.

She gave me the number of Jeb's room – just a few doors down – and I left without another word.

* * *

Fang couldn't remember when they'd put him out. All his hazy brain offered was the memory of rough hands pulling what felt like a sack over his head and the thick smell of whatever drug had been used as an inhalant sedative. Now, along with the remainder of the Flock, Fang found himself in a blank room with no windows and a single door without a handle. His hands were no longer bound and his gag had been removed. Disoriented, he pushed himself to his feet and rubbed the raw skin of his wrists.

The rest of the Flock was still out, mostly sprawled haphazardly across the floor. Out of habit Fang did a headcount, and his heart jumped a little. All the Flock was here save for Max. But Total was missing.

Frowning, Fang checked over each member of the Flock again, gently arranging them into more natural positions and searching for any potential injuries. Fang found none, but he was still worried – worried for Max, for Total – but mostly for Max.

Fang swept the room from corner to corner, wall to wall, scanning every crack and crevice for a weak spot in the door, a fault in the wall, or a camera in the ceiling – anything he could use to his advantage. There was nothing. He tapped his hand on the middle of the wall, testing the thickness. It was solid, not a single reverberation to be heard. The walls were solid, the door was solid – even the floor felt thicker than cement. They were trapped, and they were trapped good.

Resigned, Fang stretched out his stiff wings and retreated to the back of the room, where he sat and leaned against the wall.

_So_, he thought. Itex.

* * *

They had been walking for nearly ten minutes before the Doctor suddenly acquired the brilliance to check the tags on a car for a possible location. Rose had suppressed a sigh of relief when she'd seen what he'd been pointing at.

"Florida!" She'd shouted, more to herself than to anyone else. "The States. We're in the _States_. How did you mix up North America with _Belgium_?"

Only a few minutes after this wondrous discovery, Rose also spied a road sign that gave them further detail to their location – somehow or other the Doctor had landed them in Miami, Florida, year 2008. Miami, not Belgium. Rose still didn't know how the Doctor could be such a terrible navigator after nearly a millennium of practice. It couldn't be _that_ hard to fly the TARDIS, could it?

"I've told you before, Rose," the Doctor was telling her, "the TARDIS was designed to be piloted by _six_ Time Lords, not one. Give me some credit, please."

Rose couldn't suppress a grin, pressing her tongue against her teeth as she rolled her eyes.

"Sure, sure." She swung the hand he was holding back and forth but suddenly pulled him to a stop. "D'you want to go back? To the TARDIS?"

He considered this suggestion again, an odd, contemplative look contorting his expression. His free hand was in his pocket, brows furrowed and dark eyes fixed on the middle distance – which seemed to be located just above the horizon. Rose waited in silence, taking advantage of the opportunity to simply stare at him and have a plausible 'reason' for doing so. Eventually he spoke, but his gaze was still fixed on that one spot above the city-lit horizon of Miami.

"No," he said, suddenly uncharacteristically quiet. "I'm beginning to think that this was less of an accident than we thought. There's something going on here as well – I can feel it – and I think it has to do with those kids."

And with that, his mouth split into a grin and his eyes met hers. Rose returned his smile and they both started off towards the city, hand in hand.

However far-fetched the Doctor's reasoning would have sounded coming from anyone else, Rose was more than willing to place her trust in his decisions, no matter how mad they sounded.

_After all_, she thought as they strode through the faintly-lit streets, _they haven't failed us yet_.

* * *

Jeb didn't look surprised when he found me on his doorstep. If anything, he looked like he'd been expecting me. Which I guess is typical, as even now, after however many years and months and days I've known the guy, I still can't figure him out.

I didn't even try to start small talk. I barged right in, blunt and to the point – in true Max style.

"I need to know where else Itex might have taken my Flock," I stated, the moment he'd closed the door behind me. Again, Jeb didn't look surprised. I briefly wondered if Mom had talked to him after I'd fallen asleep the night before; it was a likely possibility, anyway.

Jeb thought for a few long moments, staring down at the floor.

"There are... several different headquarters I know of," he said, almost hesitantly. "In the years I worked for them, they had already spread their branches all across the world. There are the ones you know of – the more public ones in Europe – but, as I seem to recall, there were several discreet branches that worked in the shadows." Jeb looked up at me, but whatever door to his mind had been open in the past few seconds was suddenly closed, and his expression was unreadable again. I frowned, crossing my arms.

"And these headquarters would be... where?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. Jeb just looked at me, and I could hardly see the hint of contemplation hiding in his eyes, like he was debating on what to tell me, if anything. I almost growled when he took an extra few seconds to answer, and the expression on my face seemed to help him come to a decision.

"There are, as far as I know, three bases in the United States: Utah, Florida, and Washington – the state, not here in DC." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his qualification. He went on, "From here, the closest place to look would be Florida."

He said nothing after that, and I turned away to face the wall, brows furrowed. Florida. We'd been to Florida – Disneyworld and all that – and we'd been caught there, too. Then again, we'd been caught a bunch of other places, too, so that couldn't really be a coincidence. Florida...

"Where in Florida?" I asked, barely attempting to keep the demand out of my voice.

At this Jeb shrugged. "I don't know a specific location – remember, Max, I was involved with the School, not directly with Itexicon – and all I know is that it is somewhere near the coast. The east coast."

_Well, that's hardly helpful_, I thought acidly. 'Somewhere near' the east coast. That left, what, maybe a few hundred _miles_ of ground to cover? My frown deepened, becoming a scowl.

"Fine," I said. "I'll go to Florida. But you ––" I pointed at him with a slightly crooked finger, "If you're going to do anything for me, I want you to look for anything that leads to the Flock and Itex. And I'm leaving _now_."

I headed for the door, but suddenly stopped and swivelled around, struck by a thought. I stared at him full in the face, eyes hard. "And if those government people ask questions, don't answer them. Lie if you have to. I don't want them involved." Then, almost as an afterthought, I added, "I don't trust them. I don't even think I trust you."

And with that, I turned on my heel and swept out the door, leaving him to deal with the last of my affectionate words.

I leaped into the air and spread my wings, starting what was the very beginning of another long journey. I rose high into the air, banked south, and did not look back again.

* * *

Si, es finit.

Mas pronto! No se que hablo espanol hoy. Demasiado tarea de espanol hoy, supongo.

(Virtual dark chocolate and raspberries to the first person to figure out what I just said. :D)

Hasta luego, mis amigos!

-Dots


	8. Onward

To say that it's been a long time would be nothing short of an Epic Understatement. I'm so, so sorry it's taken me so long to update. I'm also very sorry that this update is a minor filler, an interlude of sorts, so I can get myself into the plot again...... that in itself may take time, in addition to actually writing out anything.

So.... sorry. o_o School is time-consuming, and I walk home now, so I've even less time at the computer.

I'll stop talking now. More.... later? Soon would be an overstatement. X_x (No hurt the author)

**I no own. Just fix.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight; Onward**

My stomach was killing me by the time I passed the border into North Carolina. It was noon – I'd been flying for a solid four hours and six minutes, according to the analogue clock on my cell phone – and I'd been running on nothing but a roll of bread and some water. I knew I had to eat something before my stomach would start eating itself.

I flew on for at least another twenty minutes, scanning the ground far beneath me. As much as my empty stomach hurt, it pained me more to delay my search for the Flock. The simple thought of my family in the hands of Itex – again – made me sick; the thought that I was potentially on a wild goose-chase made me even sicker. I didn't even know if the Flock was _in_ Florida. They could be all the way across the country, for all I knew.

Far beneath me, I made out what appeared to be a city. It looked modern enough, populated; it almost reminded me of New York, but it looked too clean, with more trees and less metal. It would have to do, for now. Angling down, I tucked in my wings and plummeted towards the city.

I ate quickly, avoiding eye contact with people and inhaling my food so fast I hardly tasted it. The town I'd landed in was called Raleigh. Well, it was a city, not a town. I'd come to the outskirts, wanting to be as far away from the masses as possible. Alone and without my Flock, I felt a little too vulnerable.

But don't tell anyone I said that.

When I took to the air again, I felt much better, knowing I was once again on my way. Every stroke of my wings took me closer to the Flock, and that was what mattered most.

Hours passed, minutes flew by. Before I knew it, the sun began to set, beginning its rapid progression towards the west. Feeling the air begin to chill, I increased my pace only slightly, already travelling at a speed of around a hundred and twenty miles an hour – a medium pace for someone who could break the sound barrier, but I didn't want to exert myself so early into my journey.

Sighing, I flew on, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of my mind – _my_ voice, not _the_ Voice – that was my doubt. All but a tiny part of me wanted to believe that the Flock was in Florida. That tiny bit of me wanted to think Jeb was lying, wanted to think he was against us.

I flew on, recognising the faint glimmer of the ocean in the distance.

* * *

Fang didn't know how long he'd been staring at the door, exactly, but it felt like it had been an eternity. He'd spent most of the time thinking about what might have happened to Max, otherwise wondering where he and the Flock had been taken to.

Max. Fang couldn't deny that he was concerned, that he was worried about her. She'd flown off after one of those snake-men, and she hadn't come back. He hoped she'd gotten out all right. He hoped the snake-men weren't anything like the Erasers. Most of all, he hoped she would be able to find them. For all he was capable of, Fang knew he couldn't handle the Flock on his own. Max was the superhero, and he was just the sidekick.

"Fang?"

Fang looked over to see Angel picking her way around the rest of the still-unconscious Flock, moving towards him. He shifted a little and the blue-eyed six-year-old came to sit at his side. She hesitated a moment before scooting closer, wrapping her skinny arms around his knee.

"I don't think you're just a sidekick," she said. "I think you're a superhero, too."

Fang just looked down at her, expressionless, unable to keep himself from thinking that Angel was wrong. He would never be as strong as Max. Max was... Max. He was Fang. End of story.

Angel leaned her head against Fang's side. "Do you think she'll find us?" She asked. Fang's brow furrowed for a moment before he looked down at her. He burned his next words into his brain before speaking, convincing himself of their truth, determined to eliminate his doubt.

"Yeah," he said. "She's Max."


	9. Midnight Delivery

_I think... I think this one may be back on track for now. _:D

Meaning... WTF/AFIT is now officially off HIATUS!

Has anyone missed me? -crickets chirping- Alright, alright, save your assorted vegetables for the end. I know it's been a long hiatus, bit this one chapter is a shortie: a necessary transition into the next heat-of-the-moment chap. Believe it or not, I have the base plotline in order for much of this fic and the one to follow. So, by all means, read on and remind yourself of why you read this in the first place - and THEN throw your food at me. But first, I'd like to say that the revisiting of this fic is partially owed to me laughing my butt off over outraged reviews of _The Final Warning_.

I no own. I only FIX. (and RIP DoctorTen! -sobsalloveragain-)

((Slight warning for language.))

* * *

**Nine; Midnight Delivery**

They were standing on the corner of what seemed to be a business district, next to a tall building several storeys high. Rose exhaled into the night air, trying to smooth down her hair. The humidity had caused it to go frizzy.

"This would be so much easier if it was _daylight_," she said, waving a hand at the dark sky.

"Oh, but all the _interesting_ stuff happens at night." The Doctor grinned and sat back on his heels, hands in his pockets, staring straight up at the company name of the building by which they stood. "Hmm. Never heard of _them_ before. _iTechs._"

Rose hadn't heard the name either and figured it was just some average American company, or perhaps a small branch of the Apple Mac Industry – _iTechs_, like iPods or something. She didn't know. This wasn't her country, after all. She'd only been to the States once or twice – and most recently with the Doctor's former regeneration. This also wasn't her time period – they were in 2008, a whole year ahead of her own. It could have been a new company.

Turning to look down the street again, Rose scanned the other buildings for a trace of anything suspicious, like... _Oh, I dunno, just _something_..._ _Like a weird building, or a sign, or that big black van coming around the corner..._

Rose took an extra second to realise she hadn't imagined the 'big black van coming around the corner' – neither had she imagined that it was headed in their direction. More specifically, it was headed in the direction of the _iTechs_ building. The Doctor was still staring up at the logo on the building; Rose tugged at his coat to get his attention, nodding at the van as it went by. The vehicle slowed as it turned at the corner of the building and disappeared from sight.

Apparently, this was suspicious enough to catch the Doctor's interest. He waggled his eyebrows at her and motioned for them to follow the van. The pair hurried to the end of the building, peering around the corner to see the van now parked by the curb, next to a sign that read "NO PARKING, LOADING ZONE" in big letters. The Doctor and Rose exchanged glances.

"Midnight delivery?" he suggested with a grin. Rose shrugged in response, looking back at the van. The doors were open now, and two figures stepped out, becoming silhouettes in the shadows of the unlit loading area. Only a moment later, three other shadowy figures in long coats appeared, apparently through the double doors of the building. They were pushing carts of some kind, similar to a trolley that you would find on a train or at an airport.

The two figures from the van began lifting something big and bulky from the inside of their vehicle. From the look of them, the bulky objects were lumpy bags. Big ones. Like body bags. Rose's stomach lurched. What if those were the kids? And if not, what _were_ they?

The group worked quickly and quietly, barely making any noise as they went about their business. Rose counted the bags as they were loaded onto the carts – _one, two, three, four, five_ – and then a smaller bag as well, about the size of a large handbag. How many kids had there been? And what was the smaller one?

So busy with her thoughts, Rose didn't notice that the figures had gone, disappeared through the double doors of the facility, save for one that climbed back into the van and began to drive away, back around the building. The Doctor nudged her and they crept out from their hiding place in the shadows, towards the doors.

"Bit late for a delivery, yeah?" Rose whispered with a slight grin. The Doctor grinned in response as he inspected the doors, eyeing the access panel on the wall. Next to the panel was a sign: ENTRY BY AUTHORISED PERSONELL ONLY.

"Ooh, I do like a restricted entry. Way to make it obvious, eh Rose?" He had his screwdriver out and was already disarming the locks on the doors. "Signs everywhere. No Parking – No Entry – No Ruining of our Evil, Take-Over-The-World Schemes..."

With a click and a whir, the locks popped open and the access panel went dead. Waggling his eyebrows again, he pulled open a door and slipped inside, Rose in his wake.

* * *

Light barely filtered through the thick, musty burlap surrounding him. Total shifted, trying to think past the fog in his brain. His sack was particularly tiny and he could hardly breathe, much less move.

_I should to speak to the manager about my accommodations. Give 'im a piece of my mind. Whatever happened to dog crates? When did Itex adopt the burlap sack? How unprofessional. Someone needs to get sacked... heh, pun totally intended._

There was a bump and Total nearly flew off whatever he was laying on – which was something cold and metallic and apparently moving. He heard footsteps near his head and caught a whiff of antiseptic. Wherever he was, it seemed a lot like Itex. Was the rest of the Flock here, too? He thought he could smell them, but the stink of cleaning solvent and steel was so strong he couldn't be sure. Total could hardly remember anything between being captured at the forest and waking up here.

Whatever he was laying on suddenly came to a stop, its wheels squeaking in his ear. Total twitched. He wanted to move. He wanted out. The more he needed air, the more the burlap seemed to suck it away.

There were voices, men talking. He could hear them clearly but couldn't pay attention to anything being said. _Out, out, out, out... Need to breathe..._

Total began to struggle, wedging a paw above his head to feel for the top of the sack, where the opening would be. He found it, and his doggy heart leapt. He began scratching, pushing, trying to get rid of whatever secured the opening.

He wasn't sure how he did it, but what seemed like hours later – it could have been minutes, even seconds – his paw broke free. The burlap sack spilled open and light flooded in. The voices had become almost shouts – an argument he didn't try to hear. Instead, he tumbled out of the sack, onto the slick floor, and ran blindly in the opposite direction of the arguing men, too disoriented to think straight.

No one noticed.

* * *

The Doctor and Rose stood in a brightly lit hallway, squinting a little in the sudden light. The Doctor pocketed his screwdriver and looked down at his companion, said, "Not quite what you'd expect for the inside of a downtown business building."

Rose just shielded her eyes, waiting for them to adjust. The pair continued down the hall, listening for footsteps or the squeaking of the wheels on the trolleys carrying the big sacks. Rose heard the faint sounds of voices nearby; the Doctor took hold of her hand and headed in the direction of the noise, already pulling out his psychic paper. The two stayed just around the corner, eavesdropping on the conversation.

"...I told you, the Director wants the subjects to be placed in the holding cell _immediately_. He'll have already received word that the delivery has been completed, and he specifically asked for a second_, consecutive_ conformation that the subjects were _securely stored_ upon arrival."

"Then _send him_ the confirmation, and I'll send them to the cell afterwards! He'll never know the difference! They will be in my care – not a minute out of my sight. That's secure enough. They're heavily drugged and my tests will hardly take more than an hour. An hour. That's all I'm asking."

"I can't allow you to interfere with the Director's plans, Greg. He _specifically_ said that-"

"An hour, Frederick. An _hour_. That's nothing. The subjects won't even be awake for at least another two and half."

"You don't know that."

"Are you telling me what I know?"

"Damn right I am. You're _not_ running any tests. Any damage to the subjects – even _potential_ damage, Greg – and we might as well go jump off a building or drink a bottle of bleach. I'm _not_ going to let you risk it."

There was a short silence. The Doctor and Rose exchanged glances. One of the men let out a furious sigh.

"Fine. _Take_ them to their little cell. But I'm not going to send the confirmation for you. You can do it yourself."

Footsteps echoed harshly down the impeccably white hall as the angry man, presumably Greg, strode away. The squeaking of the cart's metal wheels and softer footsteps soon followed.

Rose let out a heavy sigh as soon as she was sure the other man was out of earshot. "I dunno about you," she said, "but that was awfully suspicious. Subjects and tests? The Director?"

The Doctor wrinkled his brow, stepping away from the wall. "The _Uber-Director_ and _iTechs_. What would he have to do with a tech company all the way over here in America?"

"Could be a branch of somfin'," Rose suggested. "Or a cover up. You know, like in the movies. A fake company to hide the real one."

Smiling down at his companion, the Doctor said, "Leave it to you humans to come up with most ridiculous ideas for movies, and then apply them in real life so that no one suspects what you're really doing."

Rose just rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to retaliate but cut off, startled as something bumped hard against her leg. She looked down to see something small and furry and black wobbling on the edge of its balance, as if woozy or delirious. The Scotty-like dog paused a moment to regain its balance, then looked up at her, as if confused.

"Oh – hello there." Rose bent and reached out to pet the small dog. It flinched a little before taking a few steps back and staring up at her in a muddled daze, seemingly rooted to the spot. "What're you doing here, little one?"


End file.
